Forbidden Lust
by Jywy
Summary: It wasn't that India had never walked into a McDonald's in his life…it was that India had never walked into a McDonald's in America. IndiaXBurger


**Subjects have been dramatized to show texture. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia OR McDonald's OR McDonalds' ****nonexistent**** burger OR any little references to any songs on here that your can spot. **

**Please proceed with great caution.  
Heehee.**

* * *

He stood in front of the gaudy red building, staring at the brazen golden arcs that guarded the entrance by posing on the roof. He gulped, and descended his gaze down, trembling before the glaring glass doors. He had never been so nervous in his life, facing _this_. His sweaty palms tentatively reached for the metal handle, fingers wrapping around the heat removing conductor, and tugged ever so slightly.  
Nothing happened.

He let go, head hung in defeat in the battle against this handle, but he would not stay defeated for long. _In fact, there isn't such a thing as failure,_ he thought, _I only just gained experience and I'm learning, preparing for the greatest victory of everyone's lives…that has not been yet accomplished. _

He closed his eyes, embracing whatever consequences that would be thrown at him, and his arm charged for the metal handle again, now ready and resistant against the cold metal, and pulled. The door swung open, bells jingled violently, and India yelped, releasing the handle and watched with wide eyes as the door thumped back closed.

India shook himself to jelly, breathing to calm is traumatized nerves. _Shake it out, shake it out._

It wasn't that India had never walked into a McDonalds in his life…it was that India had never walked into a McDonalds _in America. _

He blinked forcefully, giving himself pep talks.

_Come on, I'm strong enough. Strong enough to even climb those stupid arcs! I will show these people, 'cause the party won't start 'till I walk in this horrid place. _

His feet were feeling restless, arms were getting pumped, and he let his eyes lock on the target: the metal handle.

He reached for the handle, fingers snatching and griping around it to ensure no possible escape, a hesitant pause, eyes shut, and then _wham!_

The door flew open, bells banging furiously—but he was ready for that—and the chattering in the area ceased. He finally opened his eyes and thought; _wow! Everybody is stopping and looking at me._ He has a tilaka on his forehead, and he wasn't afraid to show it.  
Everybody knew: _He's Indian and he knows it._

He took a bold step in the room, paused, and then marched awkwardly in. He was very aware of the eyes looking at his body, judging his every move. It was just as bad as walking on top of crocodiles to get across the lake. Actually, it was worst.

He approached the line…or so he thought was a line. He was quite sure he saw a line to the counter before he shuffled in. He turned to man on the left who he was sure was in the line staring at him before, but the man was rapidly piling ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise packets in a little napkin he set down on the counter as if he has been doing this all his life.

India turned to the right to check to see if the woman who was probably staring at him before to see if she was in line, but she was furiously tugging at the napkins out of the napkin holder like a pro.

He glanced at the others, but they all seem to be busy doing a specific, specialized task.

So he took a step forward towards the counter.

Silence, though he was sure he saw movement of the people looking up at him.

Another step.

Slight shuffling noises from the crowd.

Two quick consecutive steps.

A chair groaned. Tension rose.

And finally, a huge glide towards the counter.

_Whoosh_, India exhaled. He stared wide-eye at the cashier, showing a large ring of white around his brown irises like a wild horse.

Silence.

Then the cashier shook her head as if she had been electrocuted with life and asked in a rehearsed, overly-cheery voice "What can I get for you today, sir?"

"Yes."

"…"

"Uhm. I…" His mind raced. What do Americans typically get? Oh right. "Cheeseburger. I would like to buy a cheeseburger."

_BAM ! _A chair was knocked over.

"A...cheeseburger?" The cashier repeated.

"Y-yes."

"Oh." The cashier blinked, absent mindedly pressing buttons without looking. "Oh, uh. With everything in there?"

"Yes!" India repeated, smiling awkwardly, hands gripping the edge of counter. _What do they put in there, anyway?_

"Fries…or—"

"YES!" India cried a bit too loudly, head bobbing so enthusiastically that his cheeks shook like jelly. "Uhh, I mean, small fries."

"Oh! Ah, ok…to uh…drink?" The cashier smiled blindly in fear.

"I—ah—tea!"

"Sweet?"

"Um, no…"

"Oohhkayyyyy," She stretched out the vowels. "Anything else?"

"No?"

"No? Ohhhhkayyy," She pressed more buttons. That would be three ninety-nine!"

India handed her a portrait of Benjamin Franklin. The cashier blinked. "I don't think we have change…"

India found a twenty dollar bill instead, and shot it at her. The cashier jumped at the sudden movement, teeth gritting as she took the dollar bill and collected it, opening the drawer of money and handing back change. India took a glance at it, checking to see if she wasn't ripping him off, then pocketed it.

"And your name for the order?" She asked.

"Indi—I mean, Bob!"

"Bob?" She pressed three buttons. "Okay, uhh can I have the next customer in line?"

India giggled. He was actually rather enjoying the strange looks the Americans were giving him. It made him feel royal.

"Bob?" A voice called.

He waited patiently.

"Bob?"

Silence.

"Bo-ob!" The voice drawled out. The woman looked at India in confusion, but turned away. It couldn't be him.

"What?!" India jumped, realized that _he_ was Bob! "Oh yes! Here!"

The woman stared at him blankly, then with suspicion. Her mouth was open as if she was going to say something (like beef in the burger) but she snapped it shut, and just handed the tray to him.

India smiled, gripping the tray as he stumbled towards the nearest window seat. He set down the tray and collapsed on the chair.

_Phew_, he breathed again, eyes closed body relaxing. His heel ached and he popped his joints, while he stretched. _I'm getting old. _He took a deep breath, rubbing his hands curtly, and unwrapped the yellow wrap to reveal—

Oh. India froze, realizing what he was facing.

The juicy, glossy patty steamed wonderfully, the aroma was already somehow making his stomach conscious of its emptiness. The cheese was melting, promising a gooey bite. The tomato laid there, chilling out. The lettuce was the green ruffle skirt of the burger. The buns that held them were whole wheat, a golden crisp in them that showed richness. They look soft…and beautiful. The sesame seeds sprinkled on the bun twinkled at him, winking, teasing happily.

_Come hither~ _She seemed to say.

India whimpered. _She's hot~_

_Oh, just one little bite,_ the voice on the right begged.

_No! Remember your—_ but Left's voice suppressed.

_Please! Please! Just one little bite! What harm can it do? Right countered, and the rest agreed. The stomach moaned, the eyes were locked onto the burger, mouth drooling, lips parting; so much peer pressure. He accused Right, but Right didn't care, nor did the rest. They squirm in delight when the burger was only three inches away…two inches...one…bull's-eye._

His teeth sunk into the burger, first piercing through the soft, squishy bread, then crunching on the lettuce, and then cooled in cold tomato, touching the gooey cheese and right down to the meaty part. The tasty juice oozed out, warming and delighting the tongue, the eyebrows relaxed, rising up, every molecule in his body was screaming in delight. He breathed out a sigh of satisfaction as his eyes rolled up in his lids.

Before he knew it, he was blissfully wiping his fingers on the napkin. He widened his eyes, searching for the burger, afraid of what he had just done. He frantically lifted up the yellow wrapper, looked under the tray, and even dumped out his lonely fries to see if the burger was there.

But alas, she was gone.

Reality crashed on the poor, trembling man. The people around him looked at him in pity, but they would never understand. They just saw an Indian sinfully eating an attractive burger. They didn't know he was mourning for the lost of his new forbidden love...taken away by his own uncontrolled lust.

* * *

**RIP Cheeseburger **

_edit June 19, 2013:_** Beta: SyHug**

**Inspired by a Big Bang Theory quote. Something about rebelling against Indian culture by taking a big bite of a cheeseburger. **

**I regret nothing. **


End file.
